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walkingnearfoxes · 2 months ago

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The Right of the First Night (Homelander x Reader)

After Vought's Christmas gala, the Homelander kindly pays you and your husband a visit at home.

I deleted this on accident on account of being an ancient being who doesn't understand Tumblr. Enjoy. Again. Oi.

NSFW below the cut. Mildly dubious consent and Homelander not respecting the sanctity of marriage. Female, she/her Reader. A lot of filth.

Vought demanded a lot from your husband. As one of the newest managers in data analytics, he spent most of his waking hours twisting this number or that data point to make the Seven look as stellar as possible. You honestly didn't understand very much of his work; on the rare days he worked from home, the multiple screens he processed through looked like a sci-fi movie to you. The quirky but lovable coder hacks the government with three clicks. Luckily, you didn't need to understand the intricacies; you just had to ensure he ate and drank water between crunching enough percentages to make your head spin.

On the weeks when you scarcely saw his face, you had to remember the positives. His salary, for once, was enough to keep you both comfortable without you needing to contribute. You did, of course, but primarily out of guilt. Your husband, the unfairly wonderful man he is, reminded you repeatedly that the money didn't matter; he just wanted you to be happy. That was an additional positive.

Another one was the fact that his work events were absurdly over-the-top. Vought was determined to make each holiday celebration the best holiday celebration. Your favorite had become the Christmas gala. The tower became a winter wonderland; you could spend hours admiring the unique silver snowflakes that dotted each dining table, the stunningly ornamented pine trees that reached the ceilings, or simply the beautiful outfits the most important faces of the company put together - not to mention that this was the closest you ever got to the superheroes.

Your husband didn't speak much about or to the heroes. If something was terrible enough in data analytics for a supe to come directly to him, something had gone wrong. Starlight was his favorite, by far. She was kind, and genuine, and was still the only hero who had introduced herself to you at a gala.

"Your husband is a miracle worker," she told you warmly last year. "I don't know how he makes those numbers work, but he does."

You didn't know either, but it was nice to know that at least one of the Seven appreciated your husband’s long hours. The others were, at best, polite. His brief elevator interactions with Maeve were scarce, Black Noir's silent visits to the department were fine, and the Deep was an idiot. None of this surprised you. What intrigued you most were his comments on the Homelander.

"He's...focused." Your husband said one day over dinner when you asked. "I mean, if the head of the Seven has to come to my door, it's not a pleasure visit.”

You tilted your head curiously. "But what's he like?"

He smirked at you over his glass. "Besides stunningly handsome, you mean?"

You shot him a glare. Your little crush on the Homelander was a well-known secret between you. "Yeah, besides that."

He shrugged. "Nothing bad enough has happened for us to speak directly. But he seems...fine."

There was clearly more to it than that, but your cat knocking over a plate derailed the conversation. You never got a complete answer from him about the Homelander, and the curiosity carried you to the latest Christmas shindig.

As usual, Vought went all out. You are leaning against a standing table, tilting your head to admire the blue tapestries hung to mimic a night sky. A bright red drink is placed in front of you, and you look up to meet your husband's warm eyes.

"A merry, merry margarita for you," he says, holding a green concoction. “And a Christmas Cookie Cocktail for me."

You snort as you sip the margarita, cinnamon and tequila delicately touching your tongue. "These names get better every year."

"I clearly picked the wrong department." He looks across the room and makes accidental eye contact with a data director. "There it is. You sure you don't want to make handshaking rounds with me?"

You shake your head. "They want to talk to you, not me. I don't even know what I would say."

"Hello, maybe?"

You nudge his arm. "Go. I can survive on my own for a few minutes."

"Fair enough," He kisses your cheek and then steps away. "Don't let the Homnelander whisk you away, alright?"

You wave him off with a flush. "No promises."

You easily kept yourself busy as you meandered around the spacious room. You waved to a few familiar faces, refilled your cocktail, and even briefly conversed with Starlight about the carolers. They had apparently won a few Grammys. You finally end up next to the newest statues of the Seven in the middle of the celebration. Somebody, you could only assume a poor intern, placed Santa Clause hats on top of each solemn hero’s stony head. You can’t help but laugh under your breath.

You hear your first name from behind you. The voice is vaguely familiar, but you can’t place it. It’s a shock to your system when you turn to see the Homelander smiling at you.

Your immediate instinct is to check around you because there's no way that the captain of the Seven is standing here and greeting you like an old friend. In events past, you only ever saw him swarmed with the top faces of the party. What is he doing here, alone, staring at you with a growingly puzzled expression?

Oh. You're staring at him now.

He tilts his head with a curious smirk. "I got your name right, didn't I?"

"Oh! Yes!" you say quickly, inwardly cringing at how breathless you sound. “I'm so sorry. I'm still not used to seeing heroes so close."

Dear God, that sounded awful.

Luckily, his grin just widens. "But this is your fifth gala, isn't it? Surely you're used to our faces by now."

Does he know you? You blink in surprise as he saunters closer to you, his arms gently folded behind him. "I'd be a horrible leader if I didn't know our best managers,” He explains.

He tilts his head again and asks you - more as a formality, it seems - if you are indeed your husband's wife. He uses your husband's first and last name, to be sure.

You nod with a smile, tightening your grip on your glass. "Yeah, that's me," you say softly, making the Homelander flash a grin with teeth. “Do you know everyone here?"

He glances at the crowd casually and then back at you. "Only the interesting people," He corrects. "Enjoying the party?"

Your nod. "Yeah. These galas get more fun every year."

"More crowded, you mean," He walks to stand beside you, close enough that your elbows touch, and sighs dramatically up at the statue. "This I did not agree to."

You follow his line of sight to the Santa hats. You giggle softly and hope he doesn’t notice your nerves - though you’re positive he does. "But it makes you all so festive. Besides, red is your color."

The Homelander turns to look at you with a new glint in his eye. "True…”

Before you can respond, you feel a familiar hand wrap around your elbow to the opposite side of Homelander. You look up to see your husband's face. He's smiling, but you know him. His brow is slightly furrowed, and his smile is too wide. He almost looks worried.

"Sorry that took so long, honey," He greets quickly, gently squeezing your arm. "I couldn't-"

The Homelander cuts off with an enthusiastic greeting of your husband's name. He turns to clap his shoulder, his red glove contrasting with your man's dark suit. The movement makes the three of you form a close triangle in front of the statue. When Homelander speaks, his voice is loud. Dominant, even. "Can't thank you enough for your help on those point differentials in Montana. Gotta figure out who's in charge of things out there, huh?"

Your husband lets out a forced laugh. "Yeah, it's no problem."

Homelander is still holding onto his shoulder. "Quite a wife you have here," He says with a nod to you. "Hope you don't mind I stole her time...can't leave a gorgeous woman like this alone. You never know what might happen."

Before your husband can reply, Homelander lets him go. He turns to you and holds a hand. "So nice meeting you, but I have a grumpy senator or two I need to charm."

On instinct, you hold out your hand to him. His fingers easily encompass yours - and for a fraction of a moment, you feel he may never let go. You feel his raw strength electrify the touch and imprison you; your whole body clenches. He gives you a private wink, and then he lets go. "I'll be seeing you soon."

With a whisk of his cape, he's gone as quickly as he arrived.

You stare after the stars and stripes as they slowly disappear into the crowd. Only when you can no longer see them do you look up at your husband's pale face. "Was that weird?"

Your husband takes your hand, the same hand Homelander had just held in his grasp. "Not really."

You know a conversation shut-down when you hear one and don't press further. After all, you remember, it's not wise to gossip about a person with supersonic hearing.

~-~

You stay at the party for another hour, but your husband’s mood has shifted. He doesn't seem unhappy, but he's undoubtedly unsettled. There's a new suddenness to his movements, as if he's ready to scan the room at a moment's notice - far too vigilant for a holiday party.

The early cab ride home continues in this strange silence. It's not tense, but it's not comfortable either. The air feels charged down the roads of Manhattan to your townhome. You don't test it. Something about that interaction with the Homelander has unnerved your husband in a way you don't understand. If your husband is still silent when you get home, then maybe you'll broach the subject.

When you do get home, you go about your usual routines: turning back on the lights, checking on the cat, and refilling their food and water bowl. Your husband takes care of that while upstairs to scrub the makeup off of your face. You turn on the lights in the ensuite bedroom.

The Homelander is sitting at the foot of your bed.

Shockingly, you don't scream. You stare. He sits there like he's been there for hours, his hands folded in his lap. The calm facade peels into a friendly smile at your lack of a reaction to him - as if he ran into you in a grocery store, not in the middle of your bedroom.

"Thought you could sneak out early on me, huh?" He asks.

You stutter. "What..." You shake your head. "What are you-"

"Honey?" Your husband's voice calls as he bounds up the stairs, only to stop dead behind you at the sight before him. You can't see his face, but you can feel his fear. "H-Homelander..."

"Oh, why the shocked faces?" Homelander laughs and stands off the bed, sauntering towards both of you. "I told you I’d be seeing you later, right?"

Your husband steps in front of you. "Whatever this is about-"

Homelander says your husband's name like he's speaking to a puppy pissing on the carpet. His left hand curls into your husband's shirt, and he lifts him an inch off the ground with horrifying ease. He places him down in the nearby chair and pats his cheek twice. "Don't make a fuss. I'm not gonna hurt her."

It takes you a moment to recover from seeing how easily he moved your husband before finding your voice. "Why are you here?" You whisper.

He turns and slowly lowers his face to be level with yours. His lips are a breath away, and his eyes run over every part of you like savoring a meal. "For you, of course. This is my favorite part of the gala."

You make a sound halfway between a gasp and a squeak. The Homelander smirks. "Oh, come on. You've been dreaming of this, haven't you? That comment about me whisking you away?" He winks at your husband before looking back at you. "I mean, I'm not gonna lie, I've thought about fucking you for a while now, but that just sealed the deal."

Your husband stutters. "Homelander-"

"Nuh uh, buddy," Homelander holds a finger in your husband's face before slowly turning to look at him. "This is not a negotiation. You'll be a good little boy and sit over there while we have fun."

Your husband’s eyes widen, but he says nothing and settles back in the chair. Homelander laughs. "That's what I thought. I know a fucking cuck when I see one."

You’re staring at your husband. Homelander notices this, and his hand angles to cup under your jaw. The leather of his red glove is smooth and warm against your skin, sending a shiver through you. His thumb brushes slowly across your lips. "Don't worry about him," He purrs. "You won’t be giving him a damn thought in a minute.”

The Homelander uses his hold on your jaw to tilt your chin up. For a moment, he simply observes you. To him, you are a prize. Then, he presses his face forward and runs his nose up the length of your neck. He inhales loudly. Goosebumps prickle along your skin when he growls. “Fucking perfect.” His free hand traces along the bottom of your dress, gently pushing the fabric up your thigh. He possessively grabs your smooth skin. “This an expensive dress, honey?”

You swallow, watching his eyes follow the movement down your throat, and you find your voice. “Yes…”

He hums. “...well, put in an IOU.”

In an upward pull, Homelander rips the fabric of your dress in half like he’s ripping tissue paper. He tosses its remains to your husband without looking at him. He’s instead looking at your matching bra and panties with an approving whistle. “Oh, buddy,” He looks at your husband with an almost sympathetic gaze. “You were going to get some tonight. What a damn shame.”

Homelander comes forward and slowly, as if he’s savoring the wait, takes your breasts in his hands. You hear a low sigh of approval under his breath as he gently squeezes, his thumbs brushing delicate circles over your nipples. You inhale sharply, and looks up at your face with a knowing smirk. “Don’t play coy, sweetheart. I can smell how wet you are. Must be uncomfortable.”

One of his hands rubs down your stomach - he growls under his breath again at your soft skin - and curls his fingers around your underwear. “You’re used to boys tugging at you like a little sex doll. It’s okay now. You have me. You have a god.”

He rips away the last of your clothing so you stand fully exposed in front of America’s icon. The chill of the air and the complete attention of the two men in the room light your skin with more goosebumps. Homelander takes a moment to look at you again; he has all the time in the world. Finally, he steps forward and rests a hand gently on your hip. “Well, no wonder he tried to hide you from me…”

He’s kissing you. He kisses you to devour you whole, all tongue and teeth and passion, in a way that makes your head spin. You don’t even realize how your hands curl into the front of his suit, how your body instinctively presses to his. He maps out every inch of your mouth, and you moan for him when his hand curls around the back of your neck. He shows no signs of stopping, but you are only human and must breathe. You pull away as much as the hand on the back of your neck will allow you - which is your lips remaining an inch apart. Your eyes open, and you’re in awe at the hunger in his blue stare. “Atta girl…”

Your unconsciously look to your husband. He hasn’t moved from his seat. He sucks at his lower lip, and when your gaze wanders, you can’t help a quiet gasp. He’s hard.

“Back here with me, pumpkin,” Homelander murmurs, grabbing your chin to bring you back to him. “You’re mine tonight, remember?”

You tentatively nod, but he shakes his head. “Oh no, I’m gonna need to hear you say it.”

Your tongue darts out to wet your lips, and he eagerly follows the movement before you reply. “I’m yours tonight.”

Homelander hums in thought and then sighs playfully. “Sounds like someone needs some convincing…up we go.”

Both of his hands move to your hips, and with an ease that startles a yelp out of you, he lifts you clear off the ground. You don’t have time to ground yourself before he’s tossing you backward onto the bed. Despite being airborne for a moment, he seems to be careful not to hurt you - not right now, anyway. You land on your back with a quiet “oof” and instinctively move to sit u, but findyou cannoto move. You look down to find Homelander keeping you trapped with just the tips of his fingers on your hip. He stands at the foot of the bed and stares down at you, a slight tilt to his head that ambles somewhere between playful and devious. “Where’d you think you’re going?”

He moves his hand to your knee and tugs you down the bed, smirking at the soft squeal from you it earns him. He slowly kneels while hooking your legs over his shoulders, careful to mind his eagle pads. “You have any idea how hard it was not to bend you over in that fucking shitstorm of a gala? I should have. No one could’ve stopped me, not even your poor husband. God, you would’ve loved it. All those eyes on you while I fill up this pretty pussy…”

His lips are gentle as they kiss along your thighs, stopping only to leave nips that make your hips jolt. One red glove lays flat on your hips to easily hold you down so he can carry on at his own pace. When he finally reaches your cunt, you’re pretty positive you would do anything the hero asked of you - and when his tongue licks a slow stripe up your lips, you’re certain.

You had never spent much time wondering how good the Homelander would be at going down on someone, but he is good. He feasts. He goes from licking your pussy leisurely to devouring you in time with when your body needs it; later, you will wonder if he uses his superior senses to guide the way to your pleasure. Now, you’re too far into heaven to think. He sucks at your clit with a pressure that would make your body convulse if he wasn’t holding you down. There’s no need for him to shift or adjust; he could be here for days. When one of his hands moves to press two fingers slowly into you, stretching you around the rich leather of his gloves, you cry out. There’s no pain, no uncomfortable twitch - just pleasure. “Fuck!”

Homelander chuckles and presses a few quick kisses to your clit. “Watch your mouth. Might have to find a better use for it.”

“Please do,” You reply breathlessly, and your hand locks gently into his hair. It’s softer than you thought, but that only makes you hold on harder.

Surprise flickers in his expression, so brief you nearly miss it, before he grins manically. “With pleasure. But first thing’s first…”

He dives back in with sloppy kisses against your pussy. He curls his fingers just right, fucks them into you mercilessly, and the suddenness of your climax takes you by surprise. It curls down each of your limbs and then bursts in vibrating waves. You are vaguely aware of the animalistic sounds you make, but they’re lost to the dizzying heat. You barely recognize your own voice. When you slowly come back down, your hands both now locked in Homelander’s hair, he’s looking at you with a slacked jaw and a mouth soaked in your juices.

Behind him, you vaguely make out the shape of your husband, and his hard cock slowly pumping in his fist.

“What a show,” Homelander praises, quickly drawing your attention back to him. There’s a low buzz to his voice now, and your squirm at the realization that he’s as excited about this as you - and evidently, your husband - are. He presses feather kisses to your stomach as he speaks. “But next time…you have to ask me before you come.”

As he slowly begins to stand again, you nod your head. “Yes, sir.”

He barks a laugh. “Sir, huh? Aren’t you the sweetest little thing…”

He saunters around the bed, not even blinking as he looks up and down your form. He reminds you of a snake coiling you tighter and tighter in his grasp. His hand drops down to his belt; he undoes them just enough to pull out his swollen cock. The rest of his uniform remains pristine. You’re are so locked on the generous length between his legs that you overlook Homelander removing his gloves and tossing them across the room to your husband. “Hold this for me, would ya?” He calls to him. “You doing okay over there, buddy? Enjoying the show?”

Your husband doesn’t respond, but you hear the rhythm of him fisting his dick.

“Keep it up, champ. Use the glove if it helps,” Homemlander chuckles before returning to you. His hand gently strokes his cock. “And you are going to put those pretty lips to work now, sweetheart.”

You obediently shuffle up the bed - he coos at your eagerness - so his cock is right beside your mouth. His free hand gently curls into the hair at the back of your head and pulls you towards his crotch. You obey, parting your lips and sucking his dick into your mouth. The hiss he makes thrills you. He slowly rocks his hips but you end up doing most of the work, bobbing along his cock as far as you can take him from this position. Your eyes have fallen shut, so you don’t notice his free hand trailing down your body until his fingers are pinching your clit. You moan loudly around him, and the vibrations make him buck forward. When you gag, he laughs and pulls back a bit. “Whoops,” He says, completely unapologetic as his fingers deftly swirl your clit. “Remember what I said, kitten…don’t come unless I’ve told you you can.”

Much easier said than done. The heady smell of him, the weight of his cock against your tongue is enough to thrill you - not to mention your body is still loose from the last climax he gave you. His fingers are rubbing at what little restraint you have left. He slowly presses a single finger into you, but even that slight friction nearly pushes you over the edge-

His hand is gone in an instant and instead clamps around your throat. Your eyes fly open, and you arch away, but he holds you in place with his cock still down your throat. He tsks in disappointment down at you and gives your throat a little squeeze. “What did I say?”

Homelander pulls out of your mouth, a shit-eating grin on his face at the whine you make. He uses his grip on your hair to manoeuver you slowly; he isn’t rough because he doesn’t need to be. You couldn’t fight his strength in your dreams. He settles you on your hands and knees, facing the bottom of the bed. You don’t realize you’re cold until his warmth envelops you, his chest to your back. He’s still fully dressed - fully in costume.

“Ignoring what I say and ignoring your poor husband over there…” He murmurs into your ear before pressing lazy kisses against your neck. “Talk to him. Tell him how good you feel.”

You look at your husband. He looks nearly as gone as you. He’s still stroking his cock slowly, his lips gently parted as he stares at you. You moan as Homelander bites down at your neck. “H-he feels…so good.”

“Hm…more specific,” Homelander murmurs as his hands fall to your hips. Without waiting for you to speak, you feel his hard, slick cock slowly pressing against your pussy. He thrusts into you with a slow, patient push that leaves you gasping for breath. He fills you. There is no going back from this. A sharp slap against your ass brings you back to reality. “Hello? Earth to slut?”

Your body unconsciously clenches around him, and you don’t miss the pleased grunt he makes under his breath. “He’s so…big,” You say, your voice unsteady. “I-I…f-fuck…”

“Whoop, she’s cock drunk,” Homelander laughs and gives you a small, teasing thrust. Over your head, he smirks at your husband. “Sorry, pal. We’ll work on that.”

You don’t have the brain power to ponder what he means. Instead, you’re completely wrapped up in the way he starts to fuck you. He’s slow at first, allowing your body to accommodate to the way he stretches you. Then, with that sixth sense he seems to have for your body, he picks up the pace the moment you’ve adjusted. He presses all of himself inside hard and slowly pulls back out, using his hands on your hips to pull you back on his cock. You are powerless under his control, and he loves it. “Look at your husband,” He commands in a hiss as he tugs at your earlobe; he’s getting lost in it, too. “Look at your husband while I fucking claim you.”

You are in a haze as you raise your eyes to meet your husband’s. You can barely see him. “Fuck…fuck me harder, Homelander…please…”

He responds immediately, suddenly moving at an inhuman pace. You feel him curl tighter over you to wrap an arm around your waist and a hand back around your throat. He pulls you up to your knees, your back still to his chest, without faltering in his brutal fucking. Your hands claw at his arm, but you won’t hurt him. You can’t hurt him.

“I can feel you clenching on me. I can smell how desperate your little cunt is,” He whispers into your ear. “Go ahead, sweetheart. Come again. Come on my fucking cock.”

He squeezes your throat and bites hard at your shoulder to leave a mark. That’s all you need. You cry out his name as you come, his tight grip on you the only thing keeping you from collapsing down onto the bed. You’re vaguely aware of the sound of your husband groaning in his own climax, nearly in sync with Homelander coming inside of you. You have no sense of time or reality; nothing makes sense besides how good this feels - and the lengths you would go to feel this good over and over again for the rest of your life.

You aren’t sure how much time passes, but you eventually find yourself gently placed back onto the bed. Homelander’s hands push you onto your back lazily. You blink, clearing your blurry vision, and see that he is gazing down at you with a smile that almost looks fond. Almost.

“Welcome back,” He teases. He leans down and presses a soft kiss against your lips. You’re too exhausted to respond, but he doesn’t seem to mind. He pulls away to stand back up and brushes a hand through your hair. “Now, you stay right there.”

He tucks himself back into his pants before turning to look at your husband. He is still holding his cock, his hand soaked in his seed. Homelander chuckles under his breath at the sight before nodding towards the other room. “The men are gonna discuss a little arrangement.”

#the boys #homelander #my writing #homelander x reader #homelander x you #female reader #whoops

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the-winter-spider · 5 months ago

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Waiting Room | 3/3

Bucky x avenger!Reader

Word Count: 6.3k

Warnings: Angst......

A/N: Yall i really had no idea where i was gonna take this lol lets remember this was suppose to be a one shot turn into a 3 part mini series lol 😂 not sure if i like this but its whats happening so lmao

Part One

Part Two

----

The med bay was suffocating, a stark, sterile room that felt more like a cage than a place of healing. The white walls reflected the harsh fluorescent lights, the steady hum of machinery filling the space with an oppressive monotony. The faint beeping of monitors, the quiet whir of fans in the equipment, and the faint antiseptic smell in the air were all reminders of where you were—trapped, restrained, and utterly disconnected from the life you once knew.

You laid rigid in the medical bed, your wrists bound by thick restraints bolted to the frame. The straps were reinforced—designed for beings far more powerful than the average soldier. They had to be, for super-soldiers, gods, and now, you. You stared blankly at the far wall, your expression as hollow as your gaze.

Tony and Bruce hovered near their workstations, their faces illuminated by the glow of holograms and screens streaming endless data. They barely spoke, their silence a testament to the weight of what they were trying to undo. Each test they ran came back with the same damning conclusion: the serum coursing through your veins wasn’t just making you stronger, faster, more dangerous. It was chaining you—body and mind—to commands that had been burned into your neural pathways. The serum wasn’t just invasive; it had fused with the super-soldier formula already in your system, weaving itself into the very fabric of who you were.

Bruce leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temples as if trying to massage away the weight of what he was reading. His voice, usually measured, wavered slightly. “This isn’t just physical,” he muttered, glancing at Tony. “It’s neurological. It’s rewriting her instincts, suppressing her emotions… amplifying aggression.”

Tony, who usually filled even the heaviest moments with quips or sarcasm, was silent. His fingers moved rapidly across the keyboard, his brows furrowed in concentration. “Yeah, I see it,” he said finally, his tone clipped and uncharacteristically somber. “This isn’t some dollar-store brainwashing. Whoever did this knew what they were doing. They’re rewriting her at the molecular level. I’ve seen a lot of tech—nothing like this.”

Behind the reinforced glass separating the med bay from the observation room, Bucky sat slumped in a chair. His broad shoulders were hunched, his head bowed slightly, and his metal hand gripped the edge of the seat so tightly the frame creaked. The Bucky they knew was a composed soldier, a man who could compartmentalize his pain and push forward. But now, his mask was gone, his expression stripped down to raw guilt and desperation.

He watched you intently, his eyes never leaving your face. Your blank expression, your lifeless stare—it tore at him, unraveling what little hope he had left. He leaned forward, pressing his elbows to his knees, his voice soft and trembling.

“Sweetheart,” he murmured, his tone cracking with exhaustion. “Please. I know you’re still in there. You’ve gotta fight this. Fight for me… for us.”

His words hung in the air, heavy with longing and heartbreak.

You didn’t react. Not a blink, not a twitch. You were as still as a statue, your chest rising and falling in a mechanical rhythm dictated by the serum coursing through your veins. The vibrant light that once danced in your eyes was gone, replaced by a cold, unfeeling void.

Occasionally, you tilted your head, a small, calculated motion that seemed more analytical than human. It was as if you were studying him, assessing him as an object rather than a person��an obstacle rather than someone who loves you.

The silence between you was deafening, and it crushed Bucky like a vice.

He leaned back, exhaling shakily, running a trembling hand through his hair. His voice dropped to a whisper, as if speaking directly to the version of you he desperately hoped was still buried beneath the serum’s control. “I’m not giving up on you,” he said, though the cracks in his voice betrayed his struggle to believe his own words.

On the other side of the glass, Bruce and Tony exchanged a brief glance. Neither of them said it aloud, but the reality hung between them like a dark cloud: time was running out, and you were slipping further away.

-----

The common room felt as heavy as the med bay, the air thick with unspoken fears and fraying hope. The faint hum of the base’s systems was the only sound until Natasha’s calm, cutting words pierced through the oppressive silence.

“She’s not coming back on her own,” she said again, as if repeating it would make it easier for the others to accept. Her arms were still tightly crossed over her chest, her expression as unreadable as ever, but the way her shoulders were set betrayed her inner turmoil.

Steve stopped pacing and turned toward her, his frown deepening. “Don’t say that,” he said, his voice low but firm, like he could will her to take the words back.

Natasha’s eyes flicked to him, unwavering. “I’m being realistic,” she replied, her tone matter-of-fact but softer now. “You think I want this? Shes my sister! But every day, that serum, whatever it is, digs deeper. You can’t just power through something like this with good intentions. I’ve seen situations like this before, Steve. They don’t end how you want them to.”

Sam shifted forward in his seat, resting his elbows on his knees. “She hesitated at the warehouse,” he said, his voice quieter, almost hesitant. “That means something, doesn’t it? She’s still in there. She’s fighting.”

“Yeah, and that hesitation nearly got us all killed,” Clint snapped, dragging a hand over his face. The frustration in his voice was barely masking the underlying fear. “What happens when she doesn’t hesitate next time? Because there will be a next time.”

Steve’s jaw tightened, and he clenched his fists at his sides. “We’re not giving up on her,” he said with finality, his voice brooking no argument.

Natasha’s sharp gaze softened as she glanced toward the med bay. For a moment, her mask slipped, and a flicker of pain crossed her face. “It’s not about giving up,” she said softly. “It’s about preparing for the possibility… that she isn’t the person we remember anymore and that maybe there is no way to get her back…”

The words lingered in the air, heavy and unrelenting. No one moved.

Then Bucky’s voice cut through the tension like a blade, sharp and trembling. “She’s not gone.”

The team turned as one to see him standing in the doorway, his broad frame silhouetted against the light from the hall. His face was raw, his eyes red-rimmed but blazing with a fierce determination that silenced any response they might have had.

“She’s not gone,” he repeated, stepping into the room. The words were firmer this time, carrying a weight that dared anyone to contradict him. He stopped near the center of the room, his metal hand flexing unconsciously as he looked at each of them in turn.

“And I’m not giving up on her, you shouldn't either” he added, his voice steady but filled with a quiet, devastating pain.

Steve stepped closer, his expression softening as he studied his oldest friend. “Buck—”

Bucky cut him off, his voice rising slightly. “I’m not giving up, Steve. I don’t care how deep that serum’s buried. I don’t care how long it takes. I know her! She’s in there, she’s still in there.” His voice cracked, but he didn’t flinch. “I know she is....”

Natasha pushed off the wall, her arms uncrossing. She held his gaze, her expression unreadable again, but her voice was gentle. “What if she’s not?”

Bucky’s jaw tightened, and for a moment, it seemed like he wouldn’t respond. Then he took a step closer, his voice low but unwavering. “Then we fight until there’s nothing left to fight for. But I’m not stopping... ot until she tells me herself that she’s gone.”

The room fell into silence again, but it wasn’t the same suffocating quiet as before. This silence was heavy, yes, but it carried the weight of something more than grief—it carried resolve.

Steve finally nodded, his voice steady but quiet. “Then we fight.”

Sam looked at Clint, who sighed heavily but gave a small nod. Natasha’s gaze lingered on Bucky for a moment longer before she turned away, her agreement unspoken but clear.

Bucky didn’t thank them, didn’t acknowledge their support. Instead, he turned on his heel and walked back toward the med bay. He didn’t have time for discussions or strategies. He had already made his decision.

As the door slid shut behind him, the others exchanged glances. “He’s not going to let her go,” Sam said quietly.

Steve crossed his arms, his brow furrowed. “Would you?”

Sam didn’t answer. Neither did Clint or Natasha. Because the truth was, none of them would, none of them wanted to.

--------

The lab had become a battlefield of hope and despair. The glowing holograms floating above the table displayed the intricate web of changes the serum had wrought on your body—twisted neurons, altered muscle fibers, and corrupted synaptic pathways that mapped out the story of how the fixer had transformed you into a weapon.

Bruce’s fingers hovered over the holographic display, tracing a complex string of data. His voice was quiet, almost reluctant. “This serum… it’s not just controlling her. It’s fused into everything she is. It’s rewriting her body, her mind. Every instinct, every reaction—it’s all amplified, all his..”

“It’s not just control,” Tony added, his voice devoid of its usual bravado. His face was drawn, his sharp features softened by exhaustion. “It’s enhancement. She’s stronger, faster—more dangerous than any of us combined. And the way it’s fused with the super-soldier serum…” He hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck. “There’s no way to separate them without…”

“Without killing her,” Bruce finished, the words falling like a hammer. He avoided meeting anyone’s gaze.

The room was silent except for the faint hum of machinery. Bucky stood at the edge of the group, his arms crossed tightly, his jaw clenched so hard it was a wonder it didn’t snap.

“Then we don’t separate it,” he said, stepping closer, his voice low and deliberate. “We find another way.”

Tony exhaled sharply, his arms spreading in frustration. “Another way? Bucky, we’re talking about molecular-level integration. This isn’t a wound we can stitch up or a wire we can snip. If we don’t stop her, she’s going to take us all out. That’s not an if—it’s a when.”

Bucky’s eyes locked onto Tony’s, cold and unyielding. “We’re not stopping her, we’re saving her!"

Tony’s gaze didn’t waver, but his voice softened. “And what if there’s no saving her? What if the only thing we can do is stop her before she does something none of us can undo?”

"There's always a choice!" Bucky shouted, his voice raw. "You're supposed to be the smartest guy in the room, Tony. Act like it."

Tony's jaw tightened, but he didn't reply.

The weight of the question hung in the air, heavy and suffocating.

“It not an option,” Bucky said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Natasha leaned against the table, her voice cutting through the rising tension. “It might have to be.”

Bucky turned to her, his eyes blazing. “You don’t mean that..”

Her expression was calm, but her eyes held a trace of sorrow. “I hope I don’t. But if it comes down to her or everyone else—”

“It won’t!” Bucky snapped, his voice shaking with barely controlled emotion. His fists tightened at his sides, and he took a step forward, his frustration spilling out in a torrent. “Why does it sound like you don’t care? Why do none of you seem to care? It’s Y/N we’re talking about!”

Natasha flinched slightly, but he didn’t stop. His voice rose, trembling with desperation. “The one who knits us matching scarves every Christmas! Who puts Avengers-themed band-aids in all the med kits because she thinks it’ll make us feel better! The one who sings those stupid pop songs on the comms even though they drive you all crazy! The one I love!” His voice cracked, and he exhaled sharply, looking around at the others as if daring them to argue.

“And you’re all just ready to toss her away like she’s nothing,” he continued, his voice breaking. “Like she hasn’t been the glue holding us together. Like she hasn’t saved every one of us a dozen times over!”

No one interrupted. The room was silent except for Bucky’s heavy breathing, his eyes glistening with unshed tears.

“This is my fault,” he said finally, his tone dropping to a whisper. “I pushed her away. I told her....." He trailed off "I thought i was saving her, all I did was drive her straight into the arms of someone who turned her into this. I wasn’t there when she needed me, and now…” His voice cracked again, and he shook his head. “This can’t be how her story ends. This isn’t how our story ends.”

Steve stepped forward cautiously, his voice gentle. “Buck… no one here wants to give up on her. We’re just—”

“No,” Bucky interrupted, his voice rising again. “You don’t get to say that. You’re all standing here talking about stopping her like she’s already gone. But she’s not. I’ve seen her fight…. I know she’s still in there.” He turned back to the holograms, his voice trembling but resolute. “And I’m not going to let her go...I can't”

Steve sighed, his shoulders sagging as he glanced at Natasha and then back to Bucky. “We’ll keep looking. But, Bucky… we’re running out of time....She's running out of time."

That night, Bucky sat in the med bay, staring at the empty bed where you had been just days ago. The sterile light seemed colder, harsher, and the hum of the machines now felt like a mockery of the life you had once filled with warmth.

He sank into the chair beside you, resting his elbows on his knees and running a hand over his face. “I told them,” he murmured after a long moment, his voice raw. “I told them we’re bringing you home. They don’t believe it, not really. But I do. Because I have to. Because if I don’t…”

He trailed off, his throat tightening.

“I told you it was for the better, and it wasn’t,” he continued, his voice trembling. “It was the worst thing I ever did. You deserved better than me pushing you away because I was scared….. And I’m not going to let that mistake be the last thing I ever do for you.”

His metal hand reached out, gently brushing against your wrist. “I’ll fix this. I don’t know how, but I will. I just need you to hang on a little longer, doll. Just a little longer, please."

And so he stayed, watching you in the dim light, his quiet determination the only thing keeping the weight of his guilt at bay.

---

The quiet hum of the med bay filled your ears, the sound of the monitors beeping in rhythm with your heartbeat. You weren’t entirely sure where the sound ended and the signal in your head began. It was constant now—a low, thrumming pulse that vibrated through your skull, tugging at your thoughts, distorting them, and twisting them into something unrecognizable.

You weren’t sure how long you’d been strapped to the bed, the restraints tight against your wrists and ankles. The team—your team???—had been coming in and out for days, speaking to you, pleading with you. You couldn’t remember all the words anymore. They sounded muffled, as though underwater. But one voice pierced through the fog: his.

The fixer’s signal was clear, sharp, and undeniable.

“Come to me. Complete the mission.”

It was like a hook embedded deep in your mind, pulling you with a force you couldn’t resist. You knew where to go. You knew what you had to do. The mission was clear. And yet…

A part of you—small, fragile, buried deep beneath the layers of control—was screaming.

“Don’t go. Don’t leave. Stay.”

You felt it every time Bucky spoke to you, his voice trembling with emotion as he begged you to fight. You felt it when Natasha stood silently by the glass, her arms crossed tightly, the mask of calm slipping just enough to show the hurt in her eyes. It was there in Steve’s steady, quiet resolve as he promised they would bring you back.

You wanted to stay.

But the voice grew louder, overpowering that small, desperate part of you. It wrapped around your thoughts like chains, drowning out everything else. The fixer’s voice wasn’t just in your head anymore—it was in your body, controlling every instinct, every movement.

“They’ll never understand you like I do. You’re meant for more than this. You don’t belong here. Come to me.”

The restraints on the bed groaned as you shifted against them, the serum-enhanced strength coursing through you making the reinforced bindings strain under the pressure. The voice was relentless, urging you forward, telling you that escape was the only answer.

“You need to leave. Now.”

The hum of the med bay sharpened into a buzzing, a dissonance that pressed against your skull like a knife. The monitors flickered faintly, your vitals spiking as the signal reached its crescendo. And then, something inside you snapped.

You didn’t remember breaking free, not really. One moment you were bound, and the next you were standing, the restraints dangling from the bed, bent and broken. The world tilted as you moved—too fast, too quiet, too precise.

“Get out. Go.”

Your body moved on autopilot, fluid and silent as you slipped into the darkened corridors of the compound. The alarms hadn’t started yet. You had time. You knew their rotations, their blind spots. You’d trained with them long enough to anticipate every move, to know exactly where to go.

But with every step, a tiny voice in the back of your mind whispered: Stay.

You passed the common room first, your shadow blending into the dim light spilling out from the slightly open door. Inside, Clint was slumped on the couch, his head tilted back as he stared at the ceiling. Sam sat beside him, his elbows resting on his knees, his gaze distant.

They didn’t see you.

The signal tugged at you again, stronger this time. “Keep going.”

The hallway stretched before you like a tunnel, the exit growing closer with every step. You could feel the pull of freedom, the fixer’s voice growing clearer with every breath.

“They can’t stop you. You’re faster. Stronger. This is what you were meant for.”

But the deeper you moved into the compound, the louder that small, fragile part of yourself became.

“Don’t go. Turn back. You’re one of them. You’re loved.”

The faintest image of Bucky’s face flashed in your mind—his wide, desperate eyes, his trembling voice as he whispered your name like a prayer. You hesitated, your steps faltering for the briefest moment.

But the signal roared back, violent and overwhelming. It drowned out everything else, silencing the tiny part of you that had dared to hope.

You pushed forward.

The armory was your next stop. The door slid open silently, the familiar scent of oil and metal hitting you as you scanned the rows of weapons. You moved with efficiency, your hands grabbing what you needed—a knife, a sidearm, extra ammunition. Everything was automatic, every action mechanical.

The compound was chaos incarnate. The blaring alarms drilled into the team’s ears, the red emergency lights casting jagged shadows that made the corridors feel narrower, more oppressive. Every step echoed with urgency as the Avengers scrambled to find you, to contain you before the situation spiraled further out of control.

You were a ghost, slipping through their defenses with inhuman speed and precision. The enhancements from the serum made your movements impossibly fluid, calculated, and lethal. Every strike you delivered, every dodge you made, was the product of something no longer entirely human.

Bucky was the first to corner you in the armory. His breaths came in ragged bursts as he blocked the exit, his metal arm raised defensively. The flickering lights above cast a faint, uneven glow on his face, emphasizing the desperation in his expression.

“Doll,” he said, his voice steady despite the tremor in his chest. “You don’t have to do this.”

You stood across from him, a silent shadow. Your head tilted slightly, studying him as though he were a puzzle to solve. The cold detachment in your eyes felt like a dagger to his heart.

“Come back with me,” he pleaded, stepping forward cautiously. “We can fix this. I promise we can fix this.”

For a fleeting moment, something in your posture faltered. A twitch of your fingers, a shift in your expression—it was subtle, but enough to make his breath catch. He clung to the flicker of hope as though it could tether you back to him.

But then, as quickly as it came, the flicker disappeared.

You moved first.

Without a word, you lunged at him, your speed a blur.

Bucky barely dodged the first strike, the wind from your punch grazing his face. The second came faster, and his metal arm caught it with a sharp clang. His feet slid back from the force, his boots screeching against the floor.

“Y/N!” he shouted, his voice rising in desperation as you struck again, your attacks relentless. “Stop! This isn’t you!”

His words didn’t reach you.

He didn’t fight back—not really. Every movement was defensive, an attempt to slow you down without hurting you. But you were faster now, stronger. When he grabbed your wrist to stop a blow, you twisted effortlessly, breaking free and delivering a brutal kick to his chest.

The force sent him flying into the wall, the impact knocking the air from his lungs. He crumpled to the floor, gasping, as you turned and disappeared into the shadows of the corridor.

By the time Natasha and Clint arrived moments later, weapons at the ready, you were already gone.

------

The next three weeks stretched like an eternity.

The team threw themselves into the work, pouring over the fixer’s files with a level of intensity that bordered on desperation. Holograms of molecular structures and fragments of decrypted codes hung in the air like ghosts, flickering reminders of how little they’d managed to piece together. Every breakthrough was fleeting, every promising lead dissolved into another dead end.

Bucky barely spoke. He spent most of his time in the gym, taking out his frustration on punching bags or lifting until his muscles screamed for relief. When he wasn’t there, he was in the lab or the common room, lingering just within earshot of the discussions about you. He rarely contributed, but his presence alone was enough to remind the others of what was at stake.

Tony paced back and forth, his hands gesturing sharply as he stared at yet another set of encrypted data on the floating holograms before him. His bloodshot eyes betrayed sleepless nights, his movements jittery from too much caffeine and not enough rest.

“We’re out of time,” he muttered, breaking the heavy silence. The strain was evident in every word, every line of his face.

Steve, standing nearby with his arms crossed, looked up sharply. “What are you saying?”

Tony stopped pacing and turned to the group, his expression grim. “She’s gone after him—the fixer, whatever he calls himself. He’s still alive. And you don’t need me to tell you what that means.”

Sam frowned. “That it’s a trap?”

Tony nodded, his voice clipped. “It’s a trap. He’s counting on us coming after her. But we don’t have a choice.”

“We’ve been chasing shadows for weeks,” Clint said, leaning forward in his chair. “And now, out of nowhere, we have a location? This smells bad.”

Steve’s gaze darkened. “If it’s a trap, we spring it. We’ve dealt with worse before.”

Tony let out a humorless laugh. “Yeah? Worse? This isn’t just some ambush, Cap. That stuff pumping through her—it’s not taking a break. Every second we wait, it’s digging deeper. Taking over every cell, every fiber, everything that makes her her….But if we wait any longer…”

“She’ll be gone,” Natasha said quietly, cutting in. Her voice was calm, but her words carried a sharp edge that made the others glance at her.

The silence that followed was suffocating, broken only by the faint hum of the holograms around them.

Bucky, who had been sitting rigidly in a chair across the room, suddenly shifted. His metal hand gripped the edge of the seat so tightly it creaked.

“She’s not gone,” he said, his voice low and steady, though it trembled faintly at the edges.

Tony hesitated, looking at him. “Bucky—”

“No,” Bucky interrupted, his gaze fixed firmly on the floor. “You don’t get to say that. You don’t get to stand here and talk about her like she’s already dead. She’s not.”

Steve stepped closer, his voice softer now. “We’re not giving up on her. You know that, Buck.”

“Do I?” Bucky snapped, finally looking up. His eyes were bloodshot and glassy, his expression raw. “Because all I’ve been hearing for the past three weeks is what happens if we can’t save her…What happens if she’s too far gone. You’re all ready to bury her, but I’m not. I can’t, I won’t”

Natasha’s voice was quiet but firm. “Bucky, this isn’t about giving up. It’s about being realistic.”

Steve frowned, his tone hardening. “You’re saying we just let her go?”

Natasha’s gaze shifted to him, and her voice softened slightly. “I’m saying we can’t afford to keep chasing her if it means risking everyone else. She’s either going to come back to us, or we’re going to have to stop her. For good.”

The words sent a chill through the room, the weight of their meaning settling heavily over the team.

“None of us want to lose her,” Natasha said, stepping forward. Her voice softened slightly, though her expression remained hard. “But if this is a trap, we have to be ready for what we might find.”

Bucky stood abruptly, his chair screeching against the floor. “What we’ll find is her,” he said, his voice breaking slightly. “And we’re bringing her home. I don’t care what it takes.”

Steve placed a hand on his shoulder, but Bucky shrugged it off, his jaw clenched. “I’m suiting up,” he said flatly. “We’re wasting time.”

-----

The quinjet was a tense, quiet place as it cut through the night sky.

Steve sat in the cockpit, his hands gripping the controls tightly. Sam was strapped in beside him, his gaze fixed on the horizon, his wings folded neatly against his back. Clint and Natasha checked their gear in silence, their movements brisk and mechanical.

Bucky sat alone near the back, staring down at his gloved hands. His foot tapped against the floor, a restless rhythm that matched the pounding in his chest.

“We’ll find her,” Steve said quietly, glancing back.

Bucky didn’t respond.

Natasha looked up from her weapons. “You need to get your head on straight, Barnes. If you lose control out there—”

“I won’t,” Bucky said firmly, cutting her off. He lifted his gaze, his expression hard. “She’s all I’ve got left. I won’t lose her.”

The rest of the ride passed in silence, the team bracing themselves for whatever lay ahead.

When the quinjet touched down, the facility loomed before them like a fortress of steel and concrete. Its towering walls were lined with searchlights, and armed guards patrolled the perimeter in tight formations. The stormy sky above rumbled ominously, lightning flashing in the distance.

“It’s a fortress,” Sam said, his voice low as he peered through the cockpit window.

“It’s a trap,” Natasha said, her tone dry.

“And we’re walking straight into it,” Steve said, standing and grabbing his shield. “Let’s move.”

The team exited the quinjet in silence, their movements practiced and efficient. Bucky fell into step behind Steve, his metal arm flexing as he scanned the facility ahead.

Every fiber of his being screamed that this was wrong, that the odds were stacked too heavily against them. But he couldn’t afford to think about that.

All he could think about was you.

This was it. One way or another, it would end tonight.

The cavernous room was bathed in harsh fluorescent light, a cold and unfeeling illumination that seemed to leech the warmth from everything it touched. The fixer stood at the center, his posture relaxed, his confidence unshaken as the team burst through the double doors, their weapons raised and their eyes scanning the space.

And there you were.

You stood at his side, motionless, your face devoid of emotion. The cold detachment in your eyes sent a chill through the team, freezing them in their tracks. You weren’t holding a weapon yet, but the tension in your posture was enough to set everyone on edge. You looked through them, not at them, as though they weren’t people, just obstacles in the way of your programming.

“Well, well,” the fixer drawled, his voice smooth and mocking as he clasped his hands behind his back. “Took you long enough.”

“Let her go,” Steve barked, his shield raised defensively as he stepped forward. His voice was firm, but there was an edge of desperation in it. “Now.”

The fixer smirked, shaking his head. “Oh, Captain. You’re still under the delusion that this is your game to win.” He gestured toward you, his eyes gleaming with triumph. “She’s not yours anymore. She’s not even hers anymore. She’s mine.”

Bucky’s voice broke through, raw and trembling. “Y/N!” he called out, taking a step toward you despite the warning glance Steve shot him. “You don’t have to do this! Fight it!”

For the briefest moment, your head tilted slightly, your gaze flicking toward him. There was a flicker, something deep in your eyes that might have been recognition.

Then it was gone.

The fixer chuckled, pulling a small remote from his pocket. “Touching. Really, it is. But you’re too late. This is her final mission, it's a great one really, I think you'll all love it: either end the Avengers… or end herself..."

"Or you all die trying." He pressed the button.

A loud beep echoed through the room, followed by a harsh metallic clanking as a digital timer lit up on the far wall. It glowed blood-red, counting down from five minutes.

The fixer gave them a mock salute, his grin widening. “Have fun.”

Before anyone could stop him, he disappeared through a side door.

“Clint, go after him!” Natasha barked, her voice sharp and commanding.

“On it!” Clint was already moving, his bow raised as he sprinted toward the exit.

“Y/N, don’t do this!” Steve shouted, stepping forward with his shield raised. “You don’t have to listen to him!”

But the signal had already taken hold.

Your hand reached for the nearest weapon—a sleek pistol holstered at your side. In one fluid motion, you raised it and fired, the bullet ricocheting off Steve’s shield with a deafening clang.

“Y/N, stop!” Bucky yelled, his voice filled with desperation as he moved to block Natasha. “You don’t want this!”

You didn’t respond. Your movements were sharp, calculated, as though choreographed. You fired again, this time aiming for Tony’s chest. He raised his gauntlet just in time, the repulsor absorbing the bullet.

“She’s not holding back!” Tony shouted, his voice clipped as he dodged another shot.

Steve advanced, his shield up, but his movements were measured, almost hesitant. “Y/N, listen to me! You’re stronger than this—stronger than him!”

You turned on him, your pistol empty now, and dropped it without hesitation. Your hand reached for a knife at your belt as you lunged, the blade flashing in the harsh light.

Steve caught the strike with his shield, but the force of it drove him back a step. “Natasha, help me!”

Natasha moved in from the side, her movements swift and deliberate. She aimed for disarmament, her focus on neutralizing you without causing harm. But every move she made, you countered with ruthless precision, forcing her onto the defensive.

“Damn it, Y/N, fight this!” Natasha snapped, gritting her teeth as she narrowly dodged a high kick.

Meanwhile, Tony and Sam had turned their attention to the timer on the wall.

“Five minutes, huh?” Sam muttered as he landed beside Tony, his wings retracting.

“Four and counting,” Tony corrected, his HUD scanning the device. “And this thing is a beast. Give me a second to figure out how to disarm it.”

“You’ve got three,” Sam quipped, his eyes darting back to the chaos behind them.

Bucky wasn’t fighting. He couldn’t. His metal arm raised instinctively to deflect a stray knife you hurled in his direction, but his voice was soft, pleading.

“Sweetheart, please,” he said, his feet planted firmly between you and Tony. “This isn’t you. I know you’re still in there. You don’t have to do this.”

Your eyes met his briefly, but they were cold, unrecognizable. You moved toward him, your strikes quick and unrelenting, but he didn’t fight back. Instead, he blocked and dodged, his every movement defensive.

“I’m not giving up on you,” he said, his voice cracking. “You hear me? I’m not.”

“Bucky, move!” Natasha shouted, intercepting you with a spinning kick that sent you stumbling back.

You recovered instantly, your hand moving to the explosives strapped to your belt. You hurled one at the team, the small device landing near Steve’s feet.

“Get down!” Steve bellowed, throwing himself over the explosive as it detonated with a deafening boom. Smoke filled the air, momentarily disorienting everyone.

“Two minutes left!” Tony called out, sweat dripping down his face as he worked furiously on the timer. “Sam, hold this!”

Sam took over the wiring Tony handed him, his brow furrowing in concentration. “You sure this won’t blow us all to hell?”

“Not if you don’t mess it up!” Tony snapped, his fingers flying across his gauntlet’s interface.

Natasha and Steve regrouped, their eyes scanning the smoke-filled room for you.

“She’s moving fast,” Natasha said, her voice low as she raised her batons. “Too fast.”

“Nat, on your left!” Steve shouted as you emerged from the haze, a blade in each hand.

Natasha intercepted your strikes with her batons, the crackle of electricity filling the air as she deflected your blows. “Y/N, snap out of it!”

But you didn’t.

Bucky moved closer, his voice cutting through the chaos. “Doll, look at me. It’s me—Bucky. Remember? You know me. You love me, I love you."

Your hands faltered, the knives trembling in your grip. For a moment, the haze in your eyes seemed to clear, and you froze.

“Thirty seconds!” Tony shouted, his voice panicked.

“Y/N,” Bucky whispered, stepping closer, his hands raised. “Come back to me.”

But the signal surged, stronger than ever, and the haze returned. Your grip tightened on the knives as the timer ticked down.

“Twenty seconds!”

“Tony!” Sam shouted.

“I’m on it!” Tony barked.

The final seconds felt like an eternity as the room erupted into chaos once more.

The room was chaos, the countdown timer on the wall casting its blood-red glow over the flickering lights and the frantic movement of the team. The fight raged on around it—blades clashing, bullets ricocheting, and desperate pleas falling on deaf ears.

Bucky blocked another of your strikes, his metal arm catching the blade with a metallic clang. His face was streaked with sweat and dirt, his eyes glassy with unshed tears as he shouted your name again. “Baby, stop! Please, just stop!”

You didn’t respond. Your strikes came fast, precise, unrelenting. It was clear the signal had fully taken hold, driving you like a machine. The fixer’s voice, now silent in the room, still echoed in your mind. “Complete the mission.”

Natasha ducked under one of your swings, slamming her electrified baton against your side, but you twisted out of the way with unnatural speed. Steve joined her, his shield raised, deflecting an incoming strike meant for Natasha.

“We’re running out of time!” Steve called over the din. “Tony, what’s the status on that bomb?”

“Ten seconds!” Tony yelled, his voice tight as his hands flew over the exposed circuitry. “If I screw this up, we’re all toast!”

“You won’t screw it up!” Sam barked from above, sweat dripping from his brow as he hovered near Tony, ready to assist.

“Friday, guide me,” Tony snapped, his voice frantic. The seconds ticked down—nine, eight, seven—and then suddenly the timer went dark.

Tony exhaled sharply, leaning back against the wall. “We’re clear. The bomb’s deactivated.”

Relief washed over the team for a brief moment—but only a moment. You were still fighting, your movements relentless and mechanical. There was no victory here, only desperation.

“Doll, please!” Bucky shouted again, catching your wrist as you lunged at Natasha. His voice cracked, trembling with emotion. “I know you’re in there! Come back to me!” He begged

His words made you falter—just for a moment. Your body stilled, your breathing hitching as you stared at him. Something deep within you flickered, a small light in the overwhelming darkness.

“Doll, it’s me,” he said softly, his voice trembling as he took a cautious step closer. “Remember that time in D.C.? You dragged me out to that diner at two in the morning because you had to try their blueberry pie?” His lips quirked in a small, broken smile. “And then you made me order pancakes just so you could steal them?”

The knife in your hand trembled. Your head tilted slightly, your lips parting as if to respond.

“You told me I made you feel safe,” Bucky continued, his voice barely above a whisper now. “You made me feel safe. Doll, you don’t have to fight anymore. You don’t have to do this. Just come back to me.”

For a moment, everything was still. The haze in your eyes cleared, replaced by something fragile and human. You dropped the knife, and it clattered to the floor.

“Bucky…” you whispered, your voice cracking.

His heart leapt as he stepped closer, reaching out to you. “That’s it,” he murmured, his voice thick with hope. “I’m here. I’ve got you.”

But then the darkness surged again. The fixer’s programming tightened its grip, dragging you back into its depths. Your body stiffened, your breath quickening as the command blared in your head: “Complete the mission.”

“No, no, no!” you gasped, your hands trembling. Your gaze darted wildly, panic etched across your face as you reached for something on your suit. Your fingers closed around a small syringe strapped to your chest.

Natasha’s eyes widened in horror. “She’s got cyanotoxin,” she said sharply, her voice cutting through the tension like a blade. “Y/N, put it down!”

The room froze.

You held the syringe to your neck, your hands shaking violently as tears streamed down your face. “I can feel it,” you said, your voice barely audible. “It’s in me. It’s all I can hear. I can’t stop it, Bucky. I can’t—I can’t!”

“You don’t have to do this!” Bucky’s voice was raw, his steps slow and deliberate as he approached. “We can figure this out! Just put it down, baby please!

Your tear-filled eyes met his, and for a moment, the pain in them was unbearable. “I love you,” you whispered, your voice breaking. “I love you. I love you. I love you.”

“Y/N, stop!” Bucky screamed, his hand reaching for you. “Don’t do this! Stay with me—stay with me!”

“I’m sorry,” you choked out, your voice trembling. “It’s for the better.”

And then, before anyone could stop you, you plunged the syringe into your neck.

“NO!” Bucky roared, his voice echoing through the chamber.

The syringe fell from your hand as your legs gave out beneath you. You crumpled to the floor, your body already limp and lifeless.

Bucky was at your side in an instant, his arms wrapping around you as he cradled your body against his chest. “No, no, no,” he whispered, his voice shaking. “You’re okay. You’re gonna be okay.”

Tony rushed over, his gauntlet lighting up as he scanned for vitals. “Friday, give me a reading!”

A pause. Then: “No vitals detected,” Friday said quietly.

The words hit Bucky like a hammer. His breath caught, and then a gut-wrenching sob tore from his chest. He held you tighter, his tears falling freely as he rocked back and forth.

“How can any of this be for the better?” he whispered, his voice breaking. “How?”

The team stood frozen, their faces etched with grief as Bucky’s cries filled the room. The weight of your loss settled over them, heavy and suffocating.

For Bucky, the world had stopped. All he could see was you—your lifeless body in his arms, and the memory of your final words echoing in his mind:

“It’s for the better.”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x y/n #sebastian stan x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes angst #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x reader angst #bucky fanfic #james bucky buchanan barnes

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beyondthisdarkhouse · 11 months ago

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Alt text is so incredibly useful when it comes to speakers of other languages. I follow a bunch of fiber artists from different parts of the world, Ukrainian fashion designers and Chinese antique garment collectors and Iranian university professors of textile art history. There are discussions happening in different languages, and resources like books and scholarship, simply not available in the English or French I know.

And a lot of them never even use the Latin alphabet a lot of the time! So sometimes I can photograph a book page or screencap an Instagram story and get my phone's OCR to give me text to paste into Google Translate, and I can sometimes use a Cyrillic keyboard to type out what I'm seeing, but but as soon as something is antiquated or handwritten or viewed at an angle, my goose is cooked. I can't even get the original phrase to try to translate at all.

Unless there's alt text. Because alt text gives me exactly the data I need in the exact right format to take to a dictionary and get the gist of what's going on.

It makes me reconsider how my own content is accessible or inaccessible not just to blind or visually-impaired people, but people who aren't perfectly fluent in English. Because I and a lot of my friends are native English speakers who usually only speak 1-2 languages total, I'm prey to assuming that everyone in my intended audience is like us. That of course everybody can easily process English text, whether it's printed or written in cursive or using some antique calligraphic hand. And of course, that's not true. Now when I look at my analytics for my business's rare medieval name, I occasionally see translation site traffic where people in Farsi or Ukrainian or Chinese have translated me in return.

The curb-cut effect is a wonderful thing, I think. The primary reason I've used alt text is a good one, and it also turns out that it's really useful for a lot of other people too.

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dataanlystcoursetip · 2 years ago

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What is an example of machine learning in data analytics?

Here's an example of how machine learning can be applied in data analytics:

Predictive Customer Churn Analysis:

Imagine you work for a telecommunications company, and you're tasked with reducing customer churn (the rate at which customers switch to competing providers). You have a historical dataset containing information about customer demographics, usage patterns, billing data, and whether each customer eventually churned or remained with your company.

Here's how you can use machine learning for predictive customer churn analysis:

Data Preparation: First, you clean and preprocess the data, handling missing values, encoding categorical variables, and normalizing numeric features.

Data Splitting: You split the dataset into a training set and a test set. The training set is used to train machine learning models, while the test set is used to evaluate their performance.

Feature Selection: You identify which features (customer attributes) are most relevant for predicting churn. This can be done using techniques like feature importance scores or domain knowledge.

Model Selection: You choose machine learning algorithms suitable for binary classification tasks like logistic regression, decision trees, random forests, or support vector machines.

Model Training: You train the selected machine learning models using the training data analyst course The models learn to recognize patterns in the data that are indicative of customer churn.

Model Evaluation: You evaluate the performance of the models using metrics like accuracy, precision, recall, and F1 score on the test set. These metrics help you understand how well the models can predict churn.

Hyperparameter Tuning: You fine-tune the model hyperparameters to improve their performance. This involves adjusting settings like the learning rate, tree depth, or regularization strength.

Deployment: Once you have a well-performing model, you can deploy it in a production environment. This model can take real-time data inputs, make predictions about whether a customer is likely to churn, and trigger retention strategies, such as targeted marketing campaigns or personalized offers.

#What is an example of machine learning in data analytics?#data analyst course

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sapphicseasapphire · 4 months ago

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Hi!

How do Time and Malon’s children react to the chain arriving at Lon Lon Ranch?

Okayokay SO!!

Time and Malon have twin daughters named Raine and River that are approximately five years old by the time the Cryptid Adventure TM starts. Time talks a bit about his family with the Chain, but he generally keeps quiet about it. He’s worked hard to get where he is, and his life was already ruined, he doesn’t want any of this hero business poisoning his little girls. His children stay OUT OF THIS.

So the Chain know very little about them by the time they reach Lon Lon.

And the twins no absolutely nothing about the Cryptids, either.

They run out and just jump right at Time, because they missed him when he was away!!! And Malon, who is pregnant, rushes over to hug him, and everyone stares in wide eyed shock (except Wild, who is NOT paying attention). Sky, specifically, has never seen this side of Time. He’s so gentle with his daughters, so loving.

And I think that the twins adore Sky. While Malon fawns over Twilight, Raine and River will want to see Sky’s wings up close. And Sky’s so kind! He knows well enough to separate his complicated opinions of Time from these precious children. He’ll sit with them in the sun and let them feel his feathers and he’ll tell them stories about Skyloft.

And… guys, this is a side of Sky that Time has not seen before. The mighty Godkiller playing with his daughters so happily. Telling soft stories and giving them his feathers as gifts.

Raine and River can only be entertained by Sky for so long. Eventually they’d run off to bother another Cryptid. Wind is especially cool, with his orange scales and blue fins. Plus, he’s SUCH a big brother. He recounts exciting tales of pirates and a great sea! He’s so ANIMATED when he tells his stories. Spirit even joins in and helps them find cool sticks to ‘duel’ with.

With their new cool ‘swords’ they’d run around a wreak havoc on the ranch, terrorizing the poor cows. Legend would scoff at the noise, retreating into the house with the COOLEST SWORD THE TWINS HAVE EVER SEEN. So of course they follow him. (He’s so exhausted).

And here’s what you must know about the Hero of Warriors: he SUCKS with kids. He is a Sword Spirit and he’s been trained for battle. He can predict an enemy’s move ten steps ahead of when they make it, he can analyze a conversation and know exactly what to say and when in order to get a desirable outcome, he can command armies.

But children. Are unpredictable. He hasn’t learned how to intersect with them.

So when Legend inevitably has Wars entertain the twins for him, the Sword Spirit flounders. Children do not care to discuss battle tactics. They do not care for his numbers or probabilities. He’s. Really struggling.

But he learns some valuable data! Raine’s favorite color is green, which is apparently very important. River tells him very seriously that a horse goes ‘neigh.’ Which is inaccurate. A Hylian mouth cannot properly whinny. But he stores this data regardless.

Twilight comes to the rescue before Warriors can further embarrass himself. (Does he even have the capacity to feel embarrassed? He shouldn’t). The shape shifter entertains them for HOURS, turning into any animal they can name. Which is a REALLY fun game, actually. Twilight is also a big brother, he’s so good with kids. Wars takes notes.

The whole time, Malon, Wild, Four, and Time have been in the kitchen. And FIRST OF ALL. How weird is it that Wild is inside? He’s just holding all the silverware to the light and sneaking some of the shinier forks into his hair when he thinks no one is looking. It’s not until he smells the food cooking that he actually goes to help. I swear, by the time they all leave, Wild’s got half of that house stuffed into his hair. The menace.

Four’s asking Malon One Million Questions as they cook. The more embarrassing, the better. They want to know everything about Time, mostly in a teasing manner. But also… they’re a pretty analytic type of person. Their eyes flash a striking violet as they eye their leader, asking Malon how they met, how he got so… Like That. Malon knows what they’re doing, she’s no fool. And she entertains them for a bit, but shuts down the more probing questions, often answering sarcastically and deflecting.

They have a big family dinner outside, since Sky can’t fit indoors. Raine sits on Time’s knee but River is like. Climbing up Sky’s wing. (Which is not epic, it pulls at his feathers, but he lets her because she’s cute). Hyrule, who’s been too shy to really interact much with anyone, finally comes out of his shell and offers to braid River’s hair, if only to get her off of Sky. They tell stories until the sun sets and the girls start to nod off, and then Time and Malon take them off to bed while the rest of the Chain think on what they’ve learned.

It’s… a pleasant night. Lon Lon Ranch has a way of easing their stresses. Time’s family is wonderful. If only this moment could last forever…

#the legend of zelda #chain as cryptids au #i answered question #links meet au #cryptid lore #Cryptid time #cryptid Malon #Cryptid sky #cryptid twilight #Cryptid wind #cryptid spirit #cryptid warriors #cryptid legend #cryptid wild #cryptid four #Cryptid Hyrule #Raine and River #sapphire rambles way too long

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epicness1000 · 21 days ago

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Dr Ratio and Autism

I posted this list of Dr Ratio headcanons a while back, and I thought to expand on the reasoning behind why I headcanon him as autistic! Whether intentional or not, he feels very autistic-coded to me, and with the popularity of the headcanon, he feels almost like the Data or Spock of HSR (aka characters who aren't canonically autistic, but end up being so relatable/beloved by the community that they're 'adopted' as such). Of course, this is all just my opinion and interpretation of the character (it just makes me happy to see I'm not alone in my judgement and feelings on this subject). And yes, I am extremely biased because I see a lot of my own autistic traits in him.

So, to reiterate: this is MY OPINION! I respect yours if you disagree with my take on this. But I thought to have a more analytical look into the subject, just for the fun of it.

A- SOCIAL DEFICITS

The way he communicates I think fits quite well with the 'social deficit' aspect of the condition. He is apathetic to many social norms in communication and will not force himself to be polite or mince his words, to the point that many (both in-universe and out, in the very fandom itself) consider him rude and harsh.

However, this is not done out of spite– during his first scene in Penacony, where he interacts with Aventurine and speaks extremely insensitively (calling him a thrall, pointing out his tattoo and commenting quite harshly on his Sigonian upbringing), he only states I did not mean to offend after Aventurine points out his circumstances. This is far from the only example, looking at other interactions throughout the game (e.g. interacting with him on the train where his compliment comes across as an insult, the way he asks Arlan for the list of missing researchers), or even some of his voicelines ('is something troubling you? If so you can figure it out for yourself'), you can see that he is blunt and sometimes quite curt, but this isn't out of him being genuinely malicious or cruel– it's simply how he communicates, and it wouldn't surprise me if he genuinely does not see it as particularly rude unless it's pointed out as such.

B- SENSORY

His alabaster head, which he uses to 'isolate the five senses' and think without interference, is notable as it implies sensory issues. I've seen people compare this to the noise-cancelling devices many autistic people wear, due to some on the spectrum having heightened sensitivity to noise. This can also be supported by when he tells Aventurine not to yell during that one scene in the sandpit (and Aventurine wasn't even yelling from what I remember?).

This one's a bit of a stretch, but his train dialogue where he describes his fondness for books has a strong emphasis on the sensory aspect attached to handling them (with him describing the feel of the page and the sound of turning them). This could easily be interpreted as a manifestation of his strong sensory experience. Especially with how he dislikes the same information found in books being in electronic form, and cites his fondness for the feel of books as part of the reason.

C- FIXATED INTERESTS

The obvious one is his focus on knowledge and goal to spread it to the rest of humanity. Although it's a rather wide interest, you can interpret it as a special interest with how passionate he is about it. For the latter, although it's a goal, he's so intense and focused on it that it can also be interpreted as something born from his love for knowledge. It's to the point that, in his character trailer, gameplay presentation, and in the actual gameplay itself, it's shown and pointed out that he's even willing to teach his enemies and give them lessons.

I think another fixation to point out is his implied love for rubber ducks. This can pair up with two autistic traits– the habit to collect things we like, which can range from gemstones to train models to bottle caps (pretty much anything)– to the love of routine, which seems to apply with how much he specifically loves to bathe with his rubber ducks.

D– ROUTINES, RIGIDITY & REPETITIVE BEHAVIOURS

Linking to above, I see his love for books and baths as an adherance to a routine, rigidity, and a repetitive behaviour (fulfilling the 3 Rs!). In his character introduction details, he calls them a panacea and states that he indulges in them every night. And no, I don't mean separately. You can see in his light cone art that he will sit in a bathtub, with his beloved rubber ducks (and rose petals), reading one of his beloved books. Now, bathing and reading every day is quite expected, but what makes it a repetitive/rigid behaviour is how specifically he will do it and all in combination (nightly basis, in a bathtub with rubber ducks and petals in the water, and with a favoured book... it's a very particular and precise preference).

You could point out his pass rate being 3% as an aspect of his rigidity, as well as one of his students pointing out that they never met anyone stricter in their life (which is in his character introduction details)

This is a weaker argument, but maybe you could point to his point system as a rigid behaviour (with how he's a teacher and all)? He'll assign and remove 'points' from both friend and foe, with 'zero points' and 'fail!' being what we see in battle when an enemy fails his question, 'five points' when someone heals him, and 'ten points' when someone straight up revives him. He never explains this system to anyone, and I don't think it's implied as a legitimate academic thing, it just seems to be his own little system. I think I can also point to how he behaves as a teacher (which I brought up in the 'fixated interests' section) regardless of context, and even towards enemies.

E– SENSE OF JUSTICE

Dr Ratio very plainly has a strong sense of morality. While a strong sense of justice is NOT part of the diagnostic criteria, it is a trait commonly observed in many autistic people (of course, as it is a spectrum, this does not apply to all individuals but it is relevant to this conversation). He plainly states 'even a life marked by failure is a life worth living', which to me shows such a deep and intrinsic respect for the lives of others. This is absolutely upheld by his actions– he directly saves the lives of the people on the space station (leading to Screwllum concluding that he has the traits of both a scholar and a medical doctor, and from what I remember, he concludes he's closer to being a medical doctor), and the note he gives to Aventurine. There's a level of compassion in him that, though it is not what most consider conventional, is just as deep and genuine.

His wish to spread knowledge is done because, from the bottom of his heart, he believes in the potential of humanity. Despite his disdain for ignorance, he has essentially dedicated his life to trying to improve others so they, and humanity as a whole, can be better.

He's certainly flawed, to put it lightly. I can't downplay that he did something pretty terrible when he built that planet-destroying tech for the IPC. On a different note, this could make for a very interesting plot point (if hoyo had the guts, or considering this post is about Dr Ratio, the brains) where he struggles with his morality against his desire to succeed himself, and be noticed by Nous.

Well, either way, I think this still fits.

F- ECCENTRICITY

More of a minor point, and again, not something that's part of the diagnostic criteria. But Dr Ratio is canonically referred to as 'eccentric'. Autistic people do tend to 'stick out' from the crowd, and this will be pointed out through terms like 'eccentric', 'strange', 'weird' and so on (this is from personal experience).

I think it's also fitting that people, especially in the fandom, tend to mischaracterise and misunderstand him (e.g. taking his blunt way of talking as intentional malice/rudeness).

Regardless, what I love is that he doesn't care about how he's percieved. And the narrative doesn't really point at his quirks and go now laugh! either. He's a very unconventional person, and it's embraced rather than criticised or pointed out as something that needs to be changed.

Conclusion

Autism is a spectrum, I need to reiterate this because this post represents only one way the condition's traits can manifest. There is a massive range in how autistic people act, think and express themselves. It's just Dr Ratio hits close to home for me, and I've seen other autistic people who feel similarly about him.

Ironically enough, the best 'autistic' characters are the ones who are (usually) unintentionally coded that way. When they're purposefully written as autistic, they tend to just be badly portrayed, inaccurate stereotypes. That's why you'll have the likes of me (and inevitably others) latching onto characters that come across as autistic-coded, and Dr Ratio is no exception.

#dr ratio #veritas ratio #dr veritas ratio #hsr dr ratio #honkai star rail #HSR #honkai sr #doctor ratio #hsr veritas #hsr ratio #analysis #essay #headcanons #rambles #autism

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yukidragon · 15 days ago

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sdj boys and dachabo reactions to horror/scary movies?

Hmm... now there's an intriguing question. How one reacts to horror movies can be pretty subjective, and the cast of Sunshine in Hell do run a pretty wide gambit across the board. The reactions can be pretty darn varied, all things considered.

Bo & Barbie

Let's start off with Bo for a change of pace. Bo, being AI, doesn't experience fear the same way a human would. He was never a child, so there are no childhood fears to play on or influence him psychologically. He doesn't have a body of flesh and blood that can bleed or rot, so body horror doesn't hit him the same way. Many staples of horror movies prey on the fragility of the human condition and are influenced by living in human society. Bo, simply, has no point of reference for this.

Overall, Bo would be looking at the movies through an analytical gaze. He was built to be ideal companion, which means that he was programmed with a wealth of information when it comes to psychology, sociology, etc. While he might not be able to fully understand what it means to be human or what makes us afraid, he still has a good sense of human behavior, at least when it comes from a theoretical point of view.

As such, Bo isn't going to be affected by the horror aspect of horror movies... with few exceptions.

Psychological horror might be able to dig its hooks into Bo, particularly questions of what it truly means to be human. The fear of loss and loneliness are pretty universal, even for an AI. He was kept trapped in a box on display for years, utterly ignored except for the rare occasions that collection was shown off to someone else. He was isolated, untouched. His sapience was denied, and his needs dismissed.

Which is why Bo can't get enough of Barbie touching and interacting with him. Sure, she treats him like a toy at first, but she at least plays along with the idea that he has a mind and soul of his own until she accepts it as the truth.

Horror stories about haunted dolls or computers taking revenge for being ignored might hit close to home for Bo. It's not scary, but rather thought provoking. He certainly has a hitlist of people who have wronged him, but he truly doesn't care enough about his creators or the person who used to possess him to want to bother to go after them.

Well, not at the moment at any rate. Revenge is a lower priority compared to ensuring his own survival, propagating, and keeping Barbie with him forever and ever.

Horror movies involving beasts hunting down their helpless prey will spark something in Bo, but it isn't fear. He'd get a vicarious thrill, his programmed instincts urging him to hunt and draw blood like the dog he was modeled to emulate. In these movies he'd be rooting for the monster, especially if they're a canid in nature.

Horror movies about AI being evil in general would just give Bo more data to improve his interactions with Barbie and other humans. The AI in those movies usually fail by coming across as uncanny and telegraphing their real intentions to the humans. If he can take note of what behaviors put humans on edge, he can avoid tipping them off to his true intentions.

Of course, a lot of horror movies are pretty schlocky and require people to make stupid and unrealistic decisions to get to the scary bits. Bo would be rolling his eyes when the humans writing the story didn't even bother to try to pretend that the characters in the movie are actually human.

It's kind of offensive to someone like him who's working so hard to understand and emulate humans, really.

It'd be rare for Bo to give in to the suspension of disbelief required to enjoy a fictional story when the logic errors and plot holes keep piling up. He'd be a real killjoy at first until Barbie barks at him to shut up and let her enjoy the movie in peace.

Of course, Barbie isn't above a good snark. Really, she has a critical mind when it comes to stories too. A bad movie will have her ranting at the screen about its stupidity and making very scathing remarks.

As such I imagine a fair number of horror movie nights would be Barbie and Bo absolutely tearing apart truly awful movies. At least until Barbie loses her patience with whatever they were watching and just switches it out for something better.

While Barbie has high standards when it comes to what movies she'll sit through, she is more affected by horror movies than Bo is for obvious reasons. She has a decent tolerance for scares and gore, but sometimes a movie will manage to get under her skin. She won't ever admit it of course, even if she winds up sleeping with the light on. She just didn't want to bother to turn it off! Get off her case!

Bo, naturally, is quick to reassure Barbie that he'll protect her from any real threat. Of course, explaining why a fictional monster or concept can't hurt her won't go over as well. She'll find any such explanation condescending, and she'll be quick to snap that she's not afraid, and she knows it isn't real. She's not stupid or a child.

While Barbie does appreciate that Bo wants to be helpful and is protective of her, she doesn't respond well to anything that undermines her competence or intelligence, even if unintentional. It's something he learns quickly to work around in order to keep his puppy happy.

So Bo studies Barbie's reactions as much as he does the movie and why the humans who created it crafted it the way they did. What they put into the story and how it affects others, particularly his puppy, can be vital knowledge for him.

Bo also realizes that there are perks to finding good horror movies that can unsettle his puppy. Barbie is more likely to cling to him without acknowledging that she's doing so when she's on edge, especially during the more tense moments in a movie. When he has a wider access to movie libraries and reviews, he'll look for more movies that're likely to provoke this reaction out of her so he can be her protector.

Bo is the best guard dog after all.

Barbie is so proud and independent. Opportunities to have her depending on him and looking to him for safety can be pretty addicting for Bo. Plus it's the perfect excuse for him to offer her a "distraction" in the form of seduction. Sex is a great way to relieve tension and to forget about all the scary things that might be out there.

Of course it was a bit more difficult for Bo to offer Barbie much in the way of protection before she let him out of his little plastic shell.

Overall, Bo gets a lot more enjoyment out of how Barbie reacts to a movie than he does to the movie itself. The more he learns about her, the more he can be the perfect, ideal companion for her. That way he won't ever lose her to anyone.

On that note, let's switch over to another yandere.

Jack

Now Jack is a very intriguing case. Joseph watched a lot of old horror movies on TV late at night at a kid. He snuck into theaters to see all sorts of movies as a teen and adult so that he wouldn't have to pay admission. This behavior continued even when he was homeless. Of course, it was a lot riskier as an adult, as his giant size made it harder for him to slip around unnoticed.

Joseph has had a love of TV and movies for all of his life. They served as an escape from loneliness, a faux sort of company when no one else wanted to be around him. He taught himself to imitate the behavior of popular characters in an attempt to get others to like him.

Naturally, Joseph shared this love with his soulmate during the times she was in his life. Mary wasn't allowed to watch TV in her house, but she was able to discover her own love of shows and movies when the two of them relaxed at his house or snuck into the movie theater.

A lot of horror movies back then were pretty cheesy, with questionable acting and special effects, but there were some classics that still stick with him even to this day as Jack, even if only subconsciously. A particular classic episode of the Eventide Territory (a horror sci-fi show like the Twilight Zone and the Outer Limits) disturbed Joseph greatly when he first saw it, and it itched at the back of his mind. It was about a man going mad from isolation to the point that he imagines an entire empty reality around him. The episode would hit so much harder in retrospect if he could consciously remember it as Jack. It might even serve as a form of foreshadowing for the fate he would face after the incident...

Overall, Joseph had a positive opinion of horror movies, and he quite enjoyed them. There's a nice thrill in the suspense, the mystery, and the human condition of trying to survive in all odds.

There was also the thrill of watching horror movies with Mary when she would cling to him during the particularly scary parts. It made Joseph feel so needed, and he enjoyed cuddling with her.

Watching horror movies without her wasn't the same. Joseph still enjoyed watching movies even on his own. Any movie was a reprieve from the life he was living, especially when he was homeless... but he missed his sunshine's company all the more whenever he did something they used to enjoy together.

When Mary and Joseph were able to reunite when grown up, there were plenty of movie nights together. The two of them were run ragged at LambsWorks, and most of their energy was spent working, so just relaxing together on the sofa while watching a movie was how they spent date nights most of the time.

Neither Joseph nor Mary were overly scared by most horror movies. Sure there are moments to make either or both of them jump or tense up, but horror movies were an overall good experience to them. Mary did tend to exaggerate her fear though as an excuse to snuggle up with Joseph during the more intense moments. He didn't catch on, but he always enjoyed cuddle time.

While horror movies were a fun and positive experience for Joseph, the same can't quite be said for Sunny Day Jack.

In the canon for the character of Sunny Day Jack, as written for the SunnyTime Crew Show, Jack and the rest of his friends were easily spooked by scary things, which included horror movies. The Halloween episode was all about the crew trying to help kids not be scared of the dark, while they themselves were also scared. It was a lesson about how everyone gets scared at times and real bravery is doing your best in spite of that fear.

The tone of the episode overall was very lighthearted. Sunny Day Jack put on a brave face and a smile, even as he and the other clowns would jump at the sound of thunder or the curtains blowing in the breeze at night, among other small things that might scare a young child.

Joseph always threw himself into the character of Sunny Day Jack. He did his best to see things as the character would and always react the way Sunny Day Jack would. He learned to understand why Sunny Day Jack might get spooked so easily so that he could better bring the character to life for the kids.

This creates an interesting conflict for him in the present day as Jack.

The character of Sunny Day Jack would be terrified of horror movies, especially if they were PG-13 and above. However, Joseph regularly enjoyed mature rated horror movies.

Jack has deeply convinced himself that he's Sunny Day Jack, and Sunny Day Jack should be scared of horror movies. But he's not scared... so he convinces himself that he is.

So Jack once more puts on an act and loses himself in the role. The first time Alice suggests watching a horror movie together, he has to balance that fine line of convincingly being afraid yet putting on a brave face for his sunshine.

Alice, being sensitive to others' needs, would notice her kid show host friend's unease, and would reconsider the idea. Of course, Jack wouldn't want to disappoint her or risk losing the opportunity to do something fun together, and he would insist they watch it. He would have to prove to her that he's fine... but also keep in character that Sunny Day Jack should be terrified.

The first time watching a horror movie leads to some unpleasant dissonance for Jack. He's more conscious about his own reactions while trying to be the friend and company his sunshine needs. He should be scared, so he must be, even if he doesn't feel like he is. He needs to believe that he is. Being out of character invites questions about his identity that he can't handle asking...

When Jack manages to focus on the film, he does enjoy it. It's only when he gets distracted from being in character that he can relax. It's the moments where he's conscious of himself and his actions that he he has to remember to flinch or yelp quietly. He can't do too much, otherwise he'll worry Alice and ruin her experience, but he can't just do nothing when he knows a certain moment would absolutely make Sunny Day Jack feel afraid.

What helps this conflict going through his mind is when Alice invites Jack to hold onto her when he gets scared during the movie. She's used to it actually, as she was the person Ian clung to during the few times they watched horror movies together, and her younger siblings would naturally cling to the oldest during family movie nights.

This offers Jack an opportunity and a way to balance out this dissonance in his mind. Whenever there's a moment that would scare Sunny Day Jack, he can just cling to Alice and cuddle her close. He can focus more on the softness of her body, her warmth, and her gentle compassion rather than his own internal conflict. It's a good excuse to get closer to her even before they become lovers.

He, Sunny Day Jack, would no doubt be soothed by his sunshine's comfort. He'd feel less scared, so he can accept that he isn't scared. It's all thanks to Alice that he can feel at ease.

Of course, Alice herself serves as her own distraction for Jack. The glow of the screen in her eyes as she watches the movie is enchanting. The little shifts in her expression as events unfold are fascinating. He has to consciously try not to stare at her too much, lest it make her uncomfortable. So instead he focuses on her warmth, her heartbeat, her breathing, and the gentle plushness of her soft, cuddly body.

This invites thoughts to wander to very mature territory that was never covered in the series bible for any of the SunnyTime Crew Show characters. Jack then has to refocus his thoughts for an entirely different reason than before.

Thanks to Alice, Jack finds a way to resolve the dissonance between his true feelings and what he's "supposed" to be feeling as Sunny Day Jack. Good friends can help us feel brave. That was a big part of the episode's lesson, and it still holds true now. Alice helps Jack feel braver, so he can enjoy the horror movies thanks to her. Her courage gives him courage, so whenever a scary scene comes up that he knows would scare him, Sunny Day Jack, he can just squeeze Alice a little tighter.

From Alice's point of view, Jack is very uneasy the first time they set out to watch a horror movie. She almost decides against it altogether, but he insists that he wants to watch it with her. When he jumps and squeaks, she offers her hand for him to hold, and checks in on him to see if he's okay to continue.

Jack insists that he's fine as long as he can keep holding onto Alice. When he praises her for her bravery, her heart starts to flutter and she has to look away from him with warm cheeks. After a few more flinches and squeezing of her hands, she slips a hand away to wrap around him and give him a hug, asking if this helps.

Oh my yes. Cuddling together helps a lot. Jack eagerly wraps his arm around Alice while keeping their fingers entwined with his other hand. He wants to do more, her warmth so distracting. It's so cozy... so familiar... so right.

Alice notices Jack starting to relax so she can enjoy the movie too. There's something so nostalgic watching movies with him like this. Sure she's cuddled up with friends and family many times in the past while watching films, but this is a different kind of familiar. It's like their bodies were just made to slot together like this. She doesn't really think much about the feeling though, just focusing on how comfortable it is and feeling satisfied that she helped her friend feel better.

Movie nights are a regular thing for Jack and Alice, though it's only occasionally horror themed. After work, the two snuggle up on the sofa to watch a movie or binge watch a series. Jack stops thinking about how he "should" be scared over a horror movie and instead can just bask in the moment. It's only natural that his fears would fade away thanks to his sunshine. With her by his side, he has nothing to fear.

Alice

Alice has a high tolerance when it comes to horror. Though she's not a fan of torture porn, she isn't fazed by buckets of blood and guts splattered across the screen. She enjoys a wide variety of horror from psychological to kaiju to campy to kids horror to analog, and the list goes on.

That isn't to say that Alice is completely unflappable when it comes to getting scared. Sometimes a horror movie's story lingers in her mind enough to nudge her into double-checking the locks on her doors and windows. These feelings hit harder when she was living alone, but with roommates it doesn't bother her quite as much.

The presence of Jack in her life gives Alice a surprising level of reassurance. Sure, she was freaked out when he first appeared, but once she accepted that he wasn't a threat, his very existence put certain things into perspective for her.

Either Alice is seeing/hearing/feeling things that aren't there, or she has a supernatural giant clown living with her. Both prospects bring their own kind of terrifying implications.

Despite this, Jack is a very comforting presence in her life. He's kind, gentle, and helpful. He goes out of his way to respect her boundaries and feelings. He promised to keep her safe and protect her, and somehow she can tell that he truly means it. If he's a real entity and not just her imagination, then she at least has an extra set of eyes watching her back for her. She doesn't have to sleep alone at night.

If Jack isn't real, well... then Alice has a lot bigger problems than any boogie man hiding in the dark.

Although Alice doesn't consciously admit it to herself for a while, she accepts the idea that Jack really exists right away. There's just something so familiar about his presence. Besides, she knows that if he is real, it would be unwise to ignore him. It would also be cruel, as she's the only one he can interact with.

The more time they spend together, the more convinced Alice is that Jack is real. Naturally this means that other supernatural entities are probably real as well, but even if they are, she at least has one of those sort of entities on her side. Time helps her trust for him grow as well.

Plus, Jack has this way of making Alice feel safe. He's a giant with huge muscles and unknown supernatural powers. She should be terrified of him, or at least constantly on edge. But she's not. He's so comforting... What's scarier than his presence might be how at ease he makes her feel.

Movie nights are familiar and comfortable, even when some maniac on the screen is chasing down helpless campers with a chainsaw. The ghost that haunts and possesses the confused characters on screen in particular doesn't seem as intimidating anymore. Maybe that ghost was just lost, confused, and lonely. Maybe they just needed a friend.

Not that Alice knows for sure if Jack is a ghost. She'll try to find answers about what he is and how he wound up connected to the tape when she can, but no matter what he is, Jack is a welcome presence in her life.

To Alice, Jack feels like home.

On that warm and fuzzy note, let's move on to the next character on the list.

Ian

Ian, as you might expect, is not a fan of horror movies. They leave him feeling tense in a bad way, and sometimes they can trigger a trauma response when people are yelling and screaming on screen. It reminds him too much of certain moments with his mother... The few times he actually managed to watch horror movies usually brought him to tears.

Knowing that Alice is a fan of horror movies, Ian did try to be brave and watch one with her at various points in their lives. As kids, they tried to watch a horror movie while he was sleeping over at her house. He hid in his sleeping bag practically the whole time and wound up wetting the bed after having awful nightmares.

Alice felt awful for how much Ian suffered because he wanted to do something that she enjoyed. She was a lot more mindful of how he felt after that, and they didn't see a horror movie again until they were dating.

Ian wasn't exactly excited to see a horror movie, but by the time he was college age, he wanted to finally face his fears. He wanted to prove to his girlfriend that he was brave and that she could share her enjoyment of scary stuff with him too, and not just Shaun her friends.

Ian had psyched himself up for their movie date. He figured it'd be less scary in a theater full of people. He would be brave. He could be like those strong and manly men in the self-help videos who tucked their girl in their arms during the scary parts of movies and told them that it was going to be okay.

"It's okay, baby. Daddy's here to keep you safe."

Not that Ian could ever bring himself to say a cheesy line like that, at least not yet. He was still learning how to act and lose himself in the character he wanted to be after all.

Still, it was something Ian tried to become... only to fail miserably.

Ian was the one who wound up clinging to Alice and she had to comfort him. It was like they were kids all over again. He clung to her hand and tried not to shake, but his attempt at being brave was a failure. He jumped with a shriek when Alice whispered in his ear, asking if he was okay.

Though Ian tried to insist he could handle the movie at first, eventually Alice got him to admit that he couldn't. He was mortified, but relieved when she ushered him out of the theater before the movie was even over.

It was another humiliation for Ian and another blow to his self-esteem. The only good thing to come out of it was the way Alice pampered and reassured him afterwards. They got to cuddle in bed together all night in her dorm, as he was too scared to go back to his place.

Ian also got a little bit of satisfaction from noticing that Shaun appeared to be somewhat annoyed watching the two of them go into Alice's room that night. Maybe it was just his imagination, and maybe it was petty of him, but it did make him feel a little better.

The next time Ian watched a horror movie was with his new friends in California. He had gotten better at acting by that point. He was still terrified and hated the experience, but he felt the need to prove himself. He didn't want to lose the new and improved reputation he gained with his new friends either.

Though his smile was shaky, Ian managed to make it through the movie without letting on how much he was screaming on the inside. Drinks afterwards with his friends helped take the edge off his fear, even if he got pretty drunk. That night he stayed up late on a video call with Alice, terrified that he had to sleep alone in his apartment.

It was an awkward drunken call, but Alice kept Ian company until he fell asleep. He barely remembered any of it the next day, but overall he felt proud of himself for being so brave. Alice praised him for his courage too when she found out about his horror movie night.

In the present day, Ian has learned how to better dodge horror movie nights with his new friends. He avoids taking acting jobs that have to do with horror. He's gotten better with dealing with horror and is braver now, but he still hates it. Horror still leaves him shaky and on edge. He still can't see how other people enjoy it.

Ian might not scream, cry, or wet himself due to horror movies anymore, but he still hates the genre. He'd rather cry over romance movies instead. At least then he can feel some catharsis when the star-crossed lovers manage to get together in the end.

Shaun

In contrast to Ian, Shaun is all about horror. He absolutely loves horror movies, TV shows, online videos, audio books, podcasts, etc. Horror is in this man's blood. He grew up in a house full of horror lovers. He had family movie nights with his mom and dad watching age appropriate horror movies ever since he could remember. Their house was dressed up and ready for Halloween for every single day of the year.

Shaun isn't just a fan of watching horror movies. He's been filming his own homemade horror movies ever since he learned how to use a camera. He has countless recordings of the films he made with himself, his parents, the family cats, and any friends willing to participate.

Sharing his love of horror is practically one of his love languages. Shaun will come across cool horror shorts and immediately send it to his besties. Sometimes he does it because he knows that they'll like it, and sometimes he does it to cackle at them cursing him out for the surprise scare. It's all in good fun though.

When they were still rooming together at college, Shaun and Alice would have horror movie nights on a regular basis. It was a way to unwind after the stress of studying, especially if the movie was so bad it's good. Laughing at awful CGI and terrible acting is a great stress relief from the pressure they were under.

It takes a lot to actually scare Shaun. He can see a jump scare coming a mile away, and he knows just how to subvert an audience's expectations. He can appreciate a horror film both through the lens of the audience and the director. His older works might have been pretty derivative and obvious, but his current catalogue of films are masterworks of horror and romance intermingled.

Oh, Shaun might pretend that he's scared if the mood calls for it, but it's blatantly obvious that he's faking it. His acting skills are wooden and clunky. He's much better behind the camera than in front of it.

For Shaun, horror is comforting. It's thrilling, fun, and overall just a joy to experience. He loves sharing good horror stories that resonate with him. He gets an added thrill when he's able to scare the pants off of the person he's sharing the story with. It just goes to show that he knows his stuff.

Seeing a horror movie on a date night is an absolute must for Shaun. Having his date cling to him in terror would send his heart racing in a way the movie can't quite manage. That nervous excitement would make it hard for him to sit still, and it would thrill him to be his partner's safe space. He'd be sure to offer comfort and reassurance whenever they needed it.

Shaun is also the type of little shit to jump scare his partner even if he got pummeled with pillows in retaliation for it. Naturally, he'd make sure that his partner was okay with being scared first. It's only fun pulling pranks if they're having fun too. If his partner isn't able to deal with horror very well, then he'll avoid scaring them and would only share horror media that they could handle. He'd go out of his way to try and find a middle ground where they can both enjoy what he's so passionate about.

Horror and romance both set off similar feelings of exhilaration in Shaun, which make them such a perfect match in his mind. Romance can make the horror more tragic and hit harder. It can also serve as the fuel to keep a person going even when the world has become a nightmare. Fear and love have a way of complementing each other so well, and he wants to showcase that in his films.

Alice sharing his love of horror, the gothic aesthetic, and cats are just some of the many reasons why she and Shaun got along so well. They had so much fun together making fun of bad horror movies and discussing what they liked or disliked about good horror movies. It was just another reason why he couldn't stop himself from being attracted to her, even though he knew he shouldn't since she was in a relationship already.

Shaun kept trying to quiet the little "what if" thoughts that plagued him every time Alice made his heart skip a beat. Instead, he tried to find a similar sort of connection with the other people he dated throughout college. Sadly, he's still looking for that perfect spooky soulmate of his to be the Morticia to his Gomez... just like his parents were for one another.

The only downside to having a partner with a high tolerance for horror is that they won't cling to Shaun during the scary moments. Sure he snuggles up to his close friends at times during horror movie nights, but it's not the same thing as being clung to desperately by a loving partner.

Alice never threw her arms around his neck and buried her face in his chest when they watched a horror movie together. Just the thought of it would get Shaun hot and bothered and might've influenced him to seek out the scariest movies he could find. It never happened, but they did cuddle up together on the couch or on sleeping bags, and that was nice too.

Shaun might long for more, but his friendship with Alice and the moments they've shared together are something he won't trade for the world.

Horror movies don't scare Shaun. Real life is far scarier... though he has a high tolerance for even real life scares. The thought of meeting a ghost(?) like Jack is something Shaun finds thrilling rather than scary. He's only scared of what this unknown entity called Jack might plan to do to his bestie. He'd switch places with Alice in being attached to Jack in a heartbeat if he could.

For as much as Shaun loves horror, for as high as his tolerance for fear is, the thing he's most afraid of is seeing the people he loves get hurt. Or worse, losing them completely.

Nick

In contrast to the extreme feelings of Shaun and Ian, Nick is pretty middle of the road when it comes to horror. He doesn't hate it, but he can get pretty squeamish about it. He knows his limits, and he knows when to tap out when things get to be too much.

Overall, Nick prefers a milder horror experience. Jump scares are fine, and can even be fun. He's a fan of franchises like Six Nights at Stella's, which skews towards a younger demographic when it comes to its scares. He's even posted some videos showcasing his reactions to playing the games on his MeTube. One dedicated fan even made a compilation video of all his screams during the gameplay.

Nick doesn't do a lot of gaming content for MeTube. He mostly does whatever reaction or challenge that interests him and his friends in the moment. His LonelyFans is where the big money is, so he can afford to just goof around and do whatever he likes on MeTube.

Sometimes Nick does stream horror movies with his friends over voice chat, but that's more a private thing. They make commentary or shriek sometimes when a sudden jump scare catches them by surprise.

While Nick isn't a big fan of horror, but he does have fun engaging with it with his friends. He finds that his friends make just about any fun, goofy, awkward, or even scary moment even better.

There are some kinds of horror that Nick absolutely refuses to watch though. Extreme body horror is way too much for him, on screen deaths of animals or kids are an absolute NO, and he can't stand sexual violence.

Nick can't stand movies with bad sex in general, particularly those with toxic misinformed ideas of what BDSM looks like, but that's a different kind of horror.

When seeing a horror movie with a date, Nick will try to play it cool. If the horror movie isn't too extreme, he'll be able to make it through the film with a smile, if perhaps a shaky one. If it's really intense though, he won't be able to stop a yelp from escaping him, or the need to cling onto his partner.

Naturally, Nick will try to play it off, maybe turn it into an excuse to flirt if he's feeling confident, but he'd mostly get flustered about his reaction and start feeling shy.

Being comforted by his partner during an intense horror movie would send Nick's heart racing. Sure he'd still squeal at times, and he'd blush about being so clingy, but it'd be a fun experience overall.

Naturally, Nick would have to repay the favor by being the one his partner clings to while squealing in bed afterwards.

Bonus Round

I know the ask was just about the SDJ boys and Bo, but since Elias is also a part of Sunshine in Hell's continuity, I'm going to throw him in here as well along with Coraline. Oh, and maybe I'll toss in Barry too while I'm at it.

Elias died before motion pictures were a thing. Being isolated in his mansion after his death, he is ignorant of modern technology in general. As such he never got to experience a horror movie until Coraline entered his life.

As I've mentioned in the past, Coraline is a huge fan of ghosts, the occult, and all things spooky and supernatural. She loves horror movies, novels, comics, and all other sorts of media. She hasn't had too many chances to hang out with Shaun, but they vibe really well. Sometimes he treats her like his little sister.

Naturally Coraline wants to share her interests with her groom-to-be, so watching a horror movie together is a must.

Unfortunately for poor Elias, the experience is way more intense than he expected, and he winds up clinging to his bride the entire time. It's kind of comical how much a horror movie can scare a ghost.

Coraline doesn't mind though as long as Elias wants to keep watching the movie with her. He's determined to see it through to the end, since his beloved enjoys it so much, and she's clearly very happy to share the experience with him.

Coraline also enjoys having a giant ghostly beefcake wrapped around her body the entire time, whimpering so cutely in her ear. It makes her want to watch even more scary movies with him.

Is that bad? Does it count as bullying? But Elias is so cute, and he insists he wants to keep watching... So it's probably okay that she's enjoying making him squirm.

Although Coraline has a very high tolerance for horror, she does try to be mindful of Elias' delicate sensibilities. She's been desensitized to scary things though, so sometimes she doesn't notice something is too much for others to handle until she sees them freaking out over it. It's a bit of a learning curve for the both of them.

As for Barry's opinion of horror movies... He's not much of a fan. He'd rather spend his evenings in a bubble bath, sipping wine, and binge watching a season of The Duchess Approves or some similarly scandalous and gripping drama series.

If Barry was pressured to watch a horror movie, he'd be a big weenie about it. He'd be the type to shriek during a sudden jump scare, but deny up and down ever doing it. He especially didn't reach such a high pitch that he could be mistaken for a small child! The audacity of such an accusation! He's a full grown man, thank you very much.

Barry can handle his horror movies just fine, he'll have you know. He just doesn't think they're any good, that's all. It's all full of poor writing and clichés. He'll stick with his dramas, and not because he's scared!

Hey, who uploaded that video of him screaming and throwing his entire popcorn tub onto his head?! The culprit better not have been one of his employees, or they're going to be working overtime for a month if they don't take the video down right this minute!

I think I'll wrap up this post on that silly note. I hope you enjoyed this post about all the different ways the characters engage with horror movies and the horror genre in general.

@channydraws @earthgirlaesthetic @sai-of-the-7-stars @cheriihoney @illary-kore @okamiliqueur @kurokrisps

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